They owned almost every restaurant in Harbor Bay. Adam made his money in the scrap metal business. All the proceeds from the restaurants he owned here in town went to various charities. He was also a huge Hawks fan and did a lot for the community.
I leaned across the counter and glanced over my shoulder. “It’s good to see you. Do you mind if we sit in one of the back rooms?”
“Of course not. Follow me.”
Becca looked around as we made our way to one of the private rooms. “This is really cute,” she said, admiring the mural along the wall.
“Kelly’s daughter drew it. Ashlyn is very talented.”
“I forgot to tell you that she got into Pratt.” Kelly smiled and handed us both a menu as we sat down.
“That’s great. Tell her I said congratulations.” I scooted my chair forward and looked up at her with a smirk. “I’m going toneed to commission something before she gets too famous, and her pieces get too expensive for me.”
“You can afford it.” She smacked my shoulder playfully before walking away. “I’ll be right back with the specials.”
“Do you come here often?” Becca asked, reaching for her water glass.
“It’s one of the few places I can eat in peace.”
She looked over the menu, and we both ordered one of the specials. The turkey club for me and the Caprese panini for her. Becca didn’t waste any time as she pulled out her notebook. “Seeing that you had a long day today, I’ll keep the questions short.”
“Sounds good to me.”
She clicked her pen while looking down at the notes in front of her. “I saw an article online that your family is in town for the Hear and Now benefit this weekend. How hard is it to balance bringing attention to the charity while trying to keep your family out of the spotlight?”
I thought about that for a second. “Honestly, sometimes it doesn’t feel like I’m balancing it very well at all.”
Becca looked at me with those big, bluish-green eyes. “I’m sure it’s hard to keep up with everything. Between football, obligations, training, and the charity. That’s a lot to manage.”
Kelly brought a few appetizers over. We both started digging in. “The charity is something my family’s been involved with for a while.” I dipped a mozzarella stick in the marinara sauce and wiped my mouth with my napkin. “It’s a known fact that my sister is hearing impaired. We started this foundation as a way to support programs that will help those who need it. The funding is about access. Awareness. Making sure kids don’t fall through the cracks just because they can’t hear. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen people treat Callie differently because she didn’t respond correctly or hear them at all. It can be really tough.”
She nodded. “I can tell this is important to you.”
“It is. My sister has been hard of hearing since she was in third grade.”
“That must have been hard for her growing up.”
I thought back to all the doctor visits and second opinions. The first time Callie had to wear hearing aids to school, she cried. She hated feeling different, but she adapted quickly. She was strong in ways she shouldn’t have had to be.
“It was hard for her in the beginning. She would have to read our lips instead of hearing our words. But in a way, it made her tougher. She can read a room and pick up on things we might miss. When you lose one of your senses, you rely more on the others.”
“Can she function without a hearing device?”
I shrugged. “For the most part. There are some frequencies she hears fine, others not so much.”
She scribbled something down in her notes. “Gotcha. I’ve always admired how athletes can use their platform to bring attention to something meaningful.”
I shrugged. “It’s the least we can do. If I can use my platform to do something good and help my sister, I’m all in, but I don’t do it for the recognition.”
Her smile softened. “I think people sometimes forget that you’re a human being.”
“All the damn time,” I admitted. “But honestly, volunteering my time keeps me grounded. Football is only temporary. Organizing the annual fundraiser and seeing how much of an impact it makes reminds me why I’m doing it.”
Our food arrived, so she closed her notebook. We chatted while we ate, but nothing too heavy. I was starving, so I finished my sandwich before she was done with her panini.
“You know,” she said, wiping the corner of her mouth off with a napkin. “I actually looked up the charity online. I’mimpressed with what your family has done. I’d like to make a donation. I hope that’s okay.”
I blinked at her. “You don’t have to do that.”
